


works like a charm

by falsegoodnight



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Bottom Louis, Breathplay, Dom/sub Undertones, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Hogwarts AU, Injury Recovery, M/M, Magic, Minor Injuries, Misunderstandings, Porn With Plot, Quidditch, Shower Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26446915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsegoodnight/pseuds/falsegoodnight
Summary: Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone.One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts.Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts.Three: They do not get along.So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 114
Kudos: 769





	works like a charm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bruisedhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bruisedhoney/gifts).



> Happy Birthday to my favorite hero, Hayley <333 I'm so lucky to have met you and to call you a friend. This little fic is just a small token of my appreciation for you. It's a couple days late but I really hope you enjoy! xx 
> 
> This fic was meant to be no longer than 10 to 12k but as always... I got carried away :) 
> 
> Eventually, I will write a completely self-indulgent long Hogwarts AU but this is a nice little taste of what's to come! There are some _intentional_ inaccuracies in this fic especially in terms of certain charms/spells or details regarding Quidditch changing rooms so just go along with it! I tried to explain everything in a way that readers who haven't been exposed to the Harry Potter series can still comprehend so hopefully it'll still be enjoyable! (Google may also be of help! or you can ask any questions you have to me on any platform!!)
> 
> Also minor disclaimer: I do _not_ in any way, shape, or form support JK Rowling or any of her transphobic and bigoted comments and as far as I'm concerned, she can go fuck herself <3 Trans Rights are Human Rights <33 Sign some [petitions](https://trans--rights.carrd.co/)!
> 
> Thank you to Sarah ([soldouthaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldouthaz/pseuds/soldouthaz)) for beta-reading this fic for me and to [Kat](https://twitter.com/lwtisgolden) who also read it over for me and was the perfect HP information source for all my extremely specific questions haha. I appreciate you both!!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
>  ** _Disclaimer!_** Apparently there's some confusion - they're both in seventh year and are eighteen (adults!!) during the course of this fic!!! There's _no_ underage sex in this! 'Fifth year' is just when Louis joined the team!

Louis limps into the changing rooms, grip tight around his broom and a scowl across his face. Jade is helping him walk, an arm around his waist that releases immediately as they stop by the front of the room. 

Then she scurries away quickly and Louis sighs, scowl growing when he feels the arrival of a certain someone stop next to him. The space between them crackles with annoyance and frustration. 

“This is your fault,” a deep voice mutters and Louis resists the urge to scream. 

“You let me get hit in the fucking leg with a bludger,” he murmurs, teeth grit and voice lowering as Liam enters the room, disappointment heavy in his face. 

There’s a heavy air of tension hanging over the team as Liam makes his way down the aisle to them. It’s a harsh contrast to the usual joy post-victory. They beat Ravenclaw 240-150, yet everyone is completely silent. Everyone in the room knows that Louis and Harry are in deep shite. 

The thing is, Liam is actually one of Louis’ closest friends outside of quidditch. However, that bond and fondness dissipates as soon as they step out onto the pitch and Liam becomes Captain Payne, admired leader of the Slytherin quidditch team and wickedly good keeper. 

No other House has to refer to their captain as “Captain,” like Slytherin does but Liam likes the formality, thrives on it even. 

And though he’s the captain, he’s never been really harsh or strict like Howard had been before him. He maintained a level of discipline, expected effort and hardwork from their team, but he never got mad. He’s not even angry right now, just solemn and maybe a bit irritated. 

It’s the disappointment that makes Louis duck his head, guilt and shame bubbling up in him.

“Tomlinson, Styles,” Liam says, gesturing to the back of the changing rooms behind the single row of lockers. No “Louis,” and “Harry,” when it’s Captain Payne speaking either. 

Louis has to grit his teeth and ignore the pain as he staggers to follow, already knowing he’s not going to get help from Styles anytime soon. 

Liam sits down on the bench stiffly, still in his muddy gear with sweat glimmering on his face, highlighting the grimace stretched across his lips. They sit down on the other end quietly and Louis hides a wince, a shoot of pain slashing down from his thigh to his calf. 

“What in the bloody hell happened out there?” Liam asks flatly. 

Neither of them speak, resentment and blame crackling between them. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you what happened,” Liam says sternly, looking between both of them with a frown leaden with disappointment. “I saw my best chaser and best beater acting like fucking children!”

Okay, so maybe he’s a _little_ mad. 

“I told you that I don’t understand your hatred of each other,” Liam continues, shaking his head. “I don’t understand it and quite honestly, I don’t really care. It doesn’t matter to me until it starts affecting our team and our house.”

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Harry says immediately, ever the suck-up. 

Liam fixes him with a cold look. “I don’t care if you think Louis is the most infuriating person in Hogwarts - when you’re on the pitch, you have to protect him. That’s your _job._ You lost us a goal when you let him get hit with that bludger and tear his hamstring, do you understand? We were down 50 points and you lost us a chance to make it 40!”

“We still won,” Harry mumbles and Louis snorts. 

“Yeah, we won because Perrie caught the snitch and saved our asses,” Liam spits, narrowing his eyes, “but we should have been winning before that! The next game is the fucking championships against Gryffindor and I refuse to see something like this happen again. It’s _embarrassing,_ for fuck’s sake.” He turns to Louis, glaring. “And _you._ Louis, we do not yell at our teammates in front of the entire school. Do you understand me?”

Louis winces. “Yes, Captain,” he mumbles. 

Liam shakes his head. “You guys do realize I have to punish you, right? You endangered our chances of winning and almost cost us the championships. That can’t go without its consequences.”

“What sort of punishment?” Louis asks cautiously, stomach churning in apprehension. 

“Slughorn already pulled me aside and talked my ear off,” Liam tells them grimly. “Ten house points deducted for each of you.”

They groan. They’ve been neck and neck with Gryffindor for months now and a loss of twenty points feels monumental. 

“Also,” Liam says slowly, “he decided that you both need to learn how to get along and I actually agree with him. So we’ve come up with another punishment.” 

Louis sucks in a breath, uneasiness rising in him. If Liam and Slughorn have concocted a plan to get them to get along, he already knows he’s going to be miserable.

“First of all, Louis,” Liam turns to him. “You’re not allowed to magically heal your leg or get it healed by another person- at least not for the next twenty-four hours.” 

“What?” Louis exclaims, mouth dropping open. 

“You can cast a pain relief charm and a bandaging charm but then you’re going to give me your wand until tomorrow evening,” Liam says. “You too, Harry. Don’t want Louis to bribe you into it since you’ll be spending a lot of time together.” 

“How am I supposed to walk?” Louis implores right as Harry asks, “What do you mean, spending a lot of time together?”

Liam just smiles at him. “Harry, you’re going to help Louis around until his leg heals.”

“Why?” Harry gawks. 

“Because maybe then you’ll understand that you don’t fucking let your teammates get hurt, no matter how stubborn or resentful you both are,” Liam says firmly. He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you two will even realise you’re more alike than you think and start getting along.”

They both scoff at that, the idea so ridiculous it’s not even funny. 

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone.

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts. 

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts.

Three: They do not get along. 

So it’s really unfair of Liam to think that forcing them to spend time together as Louis recovers from his injury will make them the best of friends. The last thing Louis would do is get along with that git.

“If it’s any consolation, Louis won’t be able to hex you because neither of you will have wands,” Liam adds, shooting Louis an amused look. 

Louis’ ears are ringing, disbelief rising inside him. For the first time since the game ended, he glances at Harry who’s standing rigid, jaw set and annoyance glaring in his green eyes. 

“Just be glad tomorrow’s Saturday and you don’t have classes,” Liam says. “And that I’m not stopping you from going to the party.” 

“Captain, is this really the only-”

Liam cuts off Harry’s desperate attempt with a shake of his head. “It’s settled. Now get out of my office.”

Louis turns to leave, flinching when Liam says, “Help him, Harry.” 

He stiffens when Harry slides a sturdy arm around his waist, both of them tense as Louis reluctantly leans his weight on him and they walk carefully out of the room. 

“Can’t believe this,” Harry mutters as the hobble into the aisle. Jade, Perrie, Logan and Sam have all left, no doubt encouraged to make their exit as soon as possible and avoid any of the thick tension. 

“This is your fault,” Louis hisses, mocking his earlier proclamation. He resents the fact that he has to tip his head up to meet Harry’s glare. 

“S’not my fault you didn’t make that goal,” Harry snaps back. “And that you fucking _yelled_ at me on the pitch in front of everyone.” 

“No one heard,” Louis insists.

“Horan heard,” Harry counters, referring to the Gryffindor Quidditch commentator, “and he told everyone. You’re such a brat, honestly.” 

“You let me get hit with the bludger,” Louis shrieks, elbowing him in the ribs. 

Harry lets him go abruptly, sending Louis swaying before he manages to regain balance, scowling.

“Just hurry up,” Harry says, scowling right back. He crosses his arms and Louis pointedly does not track the way his arm muscles flex at the movement. It’s not his fault that his least favorite person is also really fucking attractive, okay? “I’m not waiting for your stupidly long showers.” 

“Excuse me for being thorough,” Louis spits hotly.

He yanks open the door to an open stall. The Slytherin quidditch changing rooms include seven separate stalls with showers and an area with a bench and shelves to keep clothes and other necessary items. 

Louis sits on said bench, propping up his leg and carefully taking off his clothes. He winces when he slides the left pant leg off his tender thigh. 

When it’s exposed, he grabs his wand and mutters, _“Lenio,”_ tapping it over his hamstring and watching as opal light trickles from the tip and onto his skin. He groans in relief as the pain quickly eases. Then he taps the exposed area and whispers, _“Ferula.”_ Bandages wrap around his leg tightly, accompanied by a knee splint to keep his leg still. He follows it with an Impervious charm so everything will be waterproof. 

He sighs when he glances at the shower- square and cramped and slippery. He’s going to have to lean against the wall on his good side and hope he doesn’t slip. There’s a side railing for him to grip as extra support which is a relief but it’s still going to be difficult. 

Though he almost trips and falls, he manages to wash off all the grime and sweat from an intense game by hanging onto the railing for dear life and only using one hand. He has to lean out of the shower and fumble for his wand, muttering a drying spell under his breath because there’s no way he’s climbing over the small barrier between the shower and the rest of the stall without slipping. 

He dresses quickly, sitting on the bench to aid his efforts before stepping out. 

Harry is already out and waiting, leaning up against the wall with a scowl on his face. The collared shirt below his robes is unbuttoned to his sternum, revealing glimpses of tattoos on his chest. He’s also missing a tie but that’s more a today thing and not a regular thing. One thing is for sure, no matter how many times Harry gets yelled at by professors to button his shirts properly, he’ll continue to walk around with his pecs out like a fucking show-off. 

They stare at each other for a tense few moments before Harry rolls his eyes and comes closer, sliding an arm around his waist. 

Louis tries to ignore the part of his brain that’s protesting against being physically touched by Harry Styles and he definitely ignores the part of his brain that’s conflicted with whether he likes it or not. 

His unintentional and unwanted attraction towards the bastard that’s been present since fifth year has been unbelievably inconvenient at times but Louis just pretends it doesn’t exist. It’s honestly hilarious to him that he had at one point harbored a massive crush on the wizard. He scowls as he remembers how that turned out for him. 

One thing’s for sure, Louis learned his lesson and now he’d never entertain any mild fancy to Styles even if it were a choice between him and a giant squid. 

Liam is waiting outside the changing rooms when they exit, hands held out expectantly. 

Handing over his precious wand is terribly sad but Louis pushes through it, indulging in his self-satisfaction when Harry gives his over too, frowning. 

“Try not to burn the school down,” Liam says, amused like the whole thing is rather funny to him. Louis makes a note to slip some Canary Creams into Liam’s stash. He’ll see how smug Liam is when he’s molting feathers in the common room. 

Liam waves them off and they begin their trek to the Entrance Hall. It’s not particularly a long distance, even when limping, but it’s made excruciatingly endless because of the tension pulsing between them. 

They don’t speak at all and Louis keeps his eyes focused straight ahead, sparing Harry a brief bitter glare when he opens the door for them and ends up shoving Louis into the doorframe. Whether it was an accident or not has an easy answer. 

“You know, none of this would have ever happened if you hadn’t put a fucking niffler in my room last week,” Harry grunts. 

Louis bites back a smirk, replaying the memory with fondness. “S’not my fault you wear so many shiny rings,” he says dismissively. “And does that mean you really did let me get hit on purpose? For some petty revenge?” 

“So what if I did?” Harry snaps. “God, you’re never going to let this go, aren’t you?”

“I’ll let it go when I want to let it go,” Louis hisses, biting his lip when they pass a trio of fifth years on the staircase. He scowls as the memory replays in his head: Louis with the quaffle racing down the pitch only to have a bludger slam into him, knocking him off the broom. The resulting chaos led to his hamstring being torn. “Besides, it’s not like you’ve apologised,” he adds. 

Harry doesn’t respond to that and they descend the rest of the stairs in silence. They enter the dungeons and Harry says the password (“ _Andromeda_ ,” after one of Slytherin’s most respected heroes) before they hobble in. 

The Slytherin common room is crowded with people, all celebrating the win. Green illuminated lanterns flicker from chains hanging from the stone walls, casting light over the charmed banners with **_PERRIE EDWARDS SAVES THE DAY_** dotting the room. People are laughing and cheering loudly, a sea of emerald green and endless house pride.

It all dims as they step fully into the room. The sight of Louis and Harry touching and walking together, albeit stiffly and wearing matching grimaces, has everyone in the common room pausing their giddy activities and staring. 

“If any of you say a word about this, I’ll hex you,” Louis threatens loudly, cheeks hot. 

“He doesn’t have his wand right now,” Harry says. 

Louis elbows him in the gut. “ _Shut the fuck up,”_ he grits. 

Thankfully, this display proves that nothing has changed and Louis and Harry still hate each other, reassuring everyone and allowing them to return to their festivities. 

The common room is packed to the brim, people mingling and drinking or stuffing their faces full of food. They had an early dinner in the Great Hall due to the game but there’s plenty of treats from the Hogwarts kitchens courtesy of the lovely house elves. Pumpkin pastries, eclairs, sandwiches, tarts, and dozens of other delicacies that won’t make it till the end of the night.

Music is playing from the corner, a low thrum that makes Louis mourn his temporary inability to dance. There’s a lot he won’t be able to do for the next couple of days thanks to his injury and also the lack of his wand. It makes Louis feel overwhelmingly muggle. 

“I want a drink,” Harry announces, already pulling Louis along to the drinks table, fully stocked after the last trip to Hogsmeade thanks to the smuggling efforts of a few fellow seventh-years. 

“Stop pulling me around like I’m a rag-doll,” Louis snaps, digging his nails into Harry’s side shamelessly.

“No,” Harry says simply. 

Louis is _so_ going to hex him tomorrow. 

The rest of the evening passes in a blur. Louis makes Harry abandon him on a settee which he does with no hesitation, going off to hang out with Alexa in the corner. 

Jade and Perrie come over to sit with him, bringing some ice as an apology for abandoning him in the changing room. Louis takes it eagerly, propping up his leg on a chair because it feels less awkward like that. His friends let him complain and rant about Harry as much as he pleases before teasing him for his dramatic display on the pitch, making Louis huff and pout. 

Plenty of people come over to congratulate them on their win and sympathize with Louis and his injury. Louis may or may not milk it, batting his eyelashes at Jordan and saying something about how he’d really like a drink but can’t get up and get one for himself. 

A minute later he has a drink in his hand and a pleasant thrum coursing through his blood. 

At one point, Liam comes by and tells Louis that he better not see anyone but Harry helping him around, which of course prompts Louis to tell Liam he hates him. 

“I _am_ sorry, you know,” he says, hoping Liam can hear the honesty in his voice. “The last thing I’d want to do is jeopardize Slytherin’s chances for the Quidditch Cup… or let you down.” 

Liam just smiles at him, shaking his head. “You’re insufferable and annoying but you’d never let me down. I forgive you, of course.” 

Louis grins at him.

“You’re not getting out of this punishment though,” Liam tells him, stern. 

“Damn it,” Louis murmurs, groaning. Liam disappears and he gulps down half of his drink, sighing in relief as the familiar burn slides down his throat and everything goes hazy. 

Eventually the party dies down and people start leaving. A few kind souls stick around to clean and Louis attempts to tidy up as well, but quickly realises he can’t be of much help in his restricted state, not to mention his alcohol induced clumsiness. 

Instead, he scans the room for Harry, knowing Liam’s in the room and will reprimand him if he gets help from someone else. 

He finds Harry standing by the drinks table chatting to some pretty sixth-year. 

“Do me a favor,” Louis slurs to Jade, “and get Styles’ attention for me.” 

Jade raises an eyebrow. “I’m not getting involved in your rivalry, babe. You know this.” 

Louis scowls, vision going blurry. He maybe had more drinks than he should have - emboldened with his frustration and resentment towards his current situation. “I just need him to help me get to the dormitories.” 

“Fine,” Jade relents, before cupping her hands around her mouth and yelling, “Oi! Styles get over here!”

Harry’s gaze skims over to them, lips curling into a frown when Louis raises an expectant eyebrow at him. He rolls his eyes, mutters something to the girl, and stalks over. 

Jade and Perrie shoot him teasing looks before saying goodbye and leaving Louis alone with Harry who’s looming over him, feet apart and arms crossed. 

“Help me up,” Louis slurs, holding his hands out. 

“Bloody hell,” Harry mutters, but he grabs Louis’ hand and yanks him up, moodily sliding an arm around his middle and herding them through the room. 

Louis ignores the stares again, hoping the scowl on his face will set them straight of any ridiculous rumors. 

“Were you flirting with that girl?” Louis blurts, too tipsy to overthink it. 

Harry scoffs. “So what if I was,” he snaps defensively. “I can flirt with whoever I like.”

Louis raises an eyebrow, amused. “Okay?” 

They reach the juncture between the girls and boys’ dormitories and Harry starts pulling Louis along, grumbling because Louis keeps tripping over his own feet, sagging into Harry’s side and giggling at nothing at all. 

“You’re drunk,” Harry says pointlessly. 

“We won,” Louis says, by way of explanation. His vision is going hazy at the edges and Harry is the only thing that’s completely in focus- his bright emerald eyes and the annoyed furrow between his brows. He pats Harry’s shoulder sloppily. “You should loosen up sometimes.”

Harry stiffens, stopping them in their tracks and letting go of Louis abruptly. 

Louis wobbles, swaying dangerously from the sudden lack of support. “Hey,” he complains, flailing helplessly for Harry before he can fall. He grabs his arm and squeezes it, pouting. 

“Why? Because I’m boring?” Harry says flatly. He looks mad, eyes darkening and jaw set. 

“Huh?” Louis slurs, ears ringing. He squeezes Harry’s arm again, licking his lips. “Aren’t you taking me to bed?” 

Harry just stares at him, lips pulled into a straight line. 

“What?” Louis rasps, shifting restlessly under the weight of Harry’s gaze. “Why’re you looking at me like that?” 

Other students pass by them, either dragging their feet and moaning about hangovers or giggling loudly, and still Harry stares. 

Eventually he snaps out of it, shaking his head. He grabs Louis again, roughly tugging him along. “Never mind,” he mutters gruffly. 

Louis just hums, which obviously turns into him singing the Sorting Hat song under his breath until Harry tells him to shut up. 

He does not. Harry walks them into Louis’ shared room with Liam, Luke, and Marcus and then pushes him onto the bed. Louis goes easily, curling up on top of his duvet in his robes. 

Harry argues with Liam about something but Louis stops paying attention, eyes fluttering shut when Harry returns and starts pulling at his clothes. 

“Not into exhibition,” Louis says breathily, squirming when Harry places one of his big hands on his stomach. He fights to open his eyes again, blinking sluggishly up at him. “Think Liam will kill you if he has to see your dick.”

“God, you’re wasted,” Harry mutters, but he keeps tugging at his robes. 

Louis nuzzles into the pillow, not helping Harry at all as he finally succeeds in wrangling his robes off and starts on Louis’ tie. “No offense to you,” he slurs. “M’sure it’s a nice dick.” 

Harry just snorts. 

The firm and steady touches of Harry’s fingers against his body lulls him to sleep, head lolling back and eyes fluttering shut once again. 

-

As expected, Louis wakes up to a raging hangover. 

Liam is actually the one who woke him up at six thirty on the dot, letting him know that there’s still a morning practice at seven and that he left him a hangover potion on the nightstand out of pity. 

Louis downs it in under a minute, sighing in relief as his headache siezes and the pounding in his ears fades. He’s still mostly in his uniform, white shirt wrinkled and slacks creased. 

He changes quickly but frustratedly. He’s regained some strength in his leg but he still has to hobble to the bathroom to brush his teeth, wash and moisturize his face, and mess with his fringe until he deems it presentable. He grumbles under his breath, convinced he’ll never actually get used to early morning practices even after two and half years on the team. He splashes Liam with cold water when he enters, shrieking when Liam splashes him back. 

Harry is waiting in the corridor when he toddles through the door, looking unfairly good and well-rested in his quidditch uniform, broom gripped in his hand. “Good morning,” he says faux-sweetly. 

“Fuck you,” Louis mutters. Of course Harry is a morning person. Yet another unbearable quality about him Louis can add to the list under _cocky_ , and _entitled_.

They don’t speak on the way to the pitch, tension pulsing between them like a living breathing dementor, sucking all the joy and happiness from either of them. Everyone else is already present when they arrive, not even bothering to hide their amusement at their predicament. 

“Okay, team,” Liam says, effectively cutting off any potential teasing, thank God. He’s got his stern Captain face on but when he speaks, it's more encouraging than strict, as per usual Liam fashion. “We have less than a week before playing against Gryffindor and winning the Quidditch Cup that each and every one of you deserve. Slytherin hasn’t won the cup once in all my time here as a student and I’ll be damned if I don’t change that before leaving. So get on your brooms and together we’ll find the way to greatness.” 

Liam’s got a habit of being cheesy, especially when it comes to pep talks and quoting the Slytherin motto, but he’s dedicated and unafraid of working them hard when needed. 

They fly fifty laps around the pitch, practicing technique and speed and also reflexes as Liam casts a spell to lob bludgers at them at a frequent rate. 

Louis has the added struggle of his injured leg but like any sensible Slytherin, he takes it as a personal challenge, adapting and adjusting until he’s leading the pack. Part of it is in his size, light and compact so that he practically glides through air, but most of it is sheer determination.

He’s got a reputation for being the fastest chaser in all four houses and he’s exceptionally proud of it. Liam gives him an approving nod when they all land. 

He also praises Harry’s reflexes when it comes to dodging bludgers because if Louis is the best chaser, he’s by far considered the best beater. It’s another addition to the list, right above _unfairly buff, even for a beater_. 

After a few more drills in the air, Liam calls them over to organize a practice match. A chaser and beater on each side, keeper and seeker playing their normal roles, and the third chaser monitoring the game and waiting to be subbed in after a match. “Jade, you’re attacking chaser and Logan you’re attacking beater. Louis and Harry, you’re defending.” He sends them a pointed look. “Work together.” 

Louis huffs but they both chorus with, “Yes, Captain,” and get into positions on the pitch. 

Jade and Logan are at the halfway line, ready to attack when the whistle blows. Louis and Harry face them from their side as Liam guards the goal post, whistle poised to his lips. 

“Maybe do your job this time,” Louis hisses right before he kicks off the ground, the warm breeze of early May ruffling his hair. 

Harry glares at him, nostrils flaring as he exhales annoyedly. “No one does my job better than me so shut the fuck up,” he bites back. 

Louis gestures to his leg in reply, no words necessary. 

“Ahem!” Liam yells, crossing his arms as he hovers in front of the rings. 

They call out apologies and get ready. The whistle blows and they’re off. 

Louis may not like Harry at all, but he can appreciate that when it comes to the sport they both love and breathe, all resentment can vanish into thin air. 

They put up a good fight when defending, yes, but Louis’ true strong suit has always been offensive and that holds true when they win their match. Harry sticks close to him, not letting a single bludger get past him or to Louis. 

Begrudgingly, Louis can admit that Harry isn’t wrong. He _does_ do his job better than anyone else. When he wants to, at least. 

His leg starts stinging in match four, a painful reminder that he is not included in that consideration. Even so, he remains civil, and the effects have him floored. 

See, he and Harry actually work really well together. They don’t speak or anything but it’s like they know what the other is going to do without needing any verbal signs. When Louis feigns left to score a goal on Liam and throw Jade off, Harry is already waiting on the right like he _knew._

When Logan almost hits him from above, Louis doesn’t even flinch, already anticipating the flash of Harry’s bat as it deflects the bludger inches from his shoulder. 

Liam looks impressed by the time practice actually finishes, commending their play. Except, he apparently decides to push his luck by assigning Harry and him to equipment clean up. 

Louis complains that he’s physically impaired but Liam says he can sit on his broom if he really needs to. 

That’s exactly what he ends up doing: scowling as he flies close to the ground while carrying the empty equipment box in his arms. He feels it’s justified when he begins loudly complaining, never a fan of physical exertion. Flying? Fun and easy. Manual labor? He’d rather kiss a dementor. 

Harry is walking beside him, glaring. “You’re barely carrying anything,” he says in disbelief. He’s lugging the majority of the equipment, leather gloves abandoned and sleeves pushed up to his upper arms, exposing the defined lines of his forearms and biceps. 

Not that Louis is paying attention. 

“I’m injured,” he says dismissively. 

“You’re _spoiled,”_ Harry corrects, shouldering through the door to the equipment room where he promptly dumps his load. “And everyone just goes along with it, like you’re a fucking princess.”

“You can call me that if you want,” Louis says, unbothered at the pitiful excuse for an insult. If anything, Harry is the one everyone lets get away with things. His careless habit of not buttoning his shirts is just the first example on the long list. “‘Your majesty’ would be nice too.” 

Harry mutters something vile under his breath and Louis ignores him. 

They return to the changing rooms only to see that, once again, they’re the only ones left. 

“Hurry up,” Harry grunts, releasing him roughly when they get to the stalls. He smells like sweat and grass and cologne and Louis hates how appealing it feels, breathing through his mouth so he doesn’t do something stupid like lean back in for another whiff. 

Instead, he rolls his eyes, already deciding that he’s going to take a longer shower just to piss him off. 

He undresses slowly too, wrinkling his nose at the sweaty garments before stuffing them into a bag to take up and wash. Then he carefully gets into the shower and turns the knob to almost the hottest setting, sighing in contentment when he’s doused in a pleasantly scorching spray. 

Grabbing his shampoo, he takes his time in lathering his hair and massaging the liquid in until it forms foamy bubbles against his palms. He hums to himself as he washes it out, reaching for the conditioner next. 

Loud knocks disrupt his bliss and he smirks, the water not quite drowning out Harry’s annoyed, _“Seriously?”_

He turns off the shower to conserve water and lets the conditioner sit in his hair as he scrubs his body clean with cinnamon and sugar body wash, still humming. 

Another round of angry knocks rings through the air and Louis ignores it again, stalling as long as possible before rolling his eyes and turning the water back on.

He rinses the conditioner out, surprised when he doesn’t hear any more knocks. 

It prompts a spark of fear that Harry’s no longer outside, waiting. Maybe he left and Louis is going to be stranded in the changing rooms until someone realises he’s missing. 

But, no- Harry would never risk angering Liam or Slughorn so soon after being reprimanded. 

Either way, Louis decides his shower must come to an end. His stomach growls on cue, reminding him he hasn’t had breakfast. 

Turning the faucet off, he realises two things. 

First, he’s so used to drying spells that he completely forgot that he needed to grab a towel for today. 

Second, he’s going to have to get out of this shower while soaking wet and hope he doesn’t trip or fall on his arse. Fantastic. 

Sighing loudly, he resigns himself. “Harry!” he yells. 

No answer. 

“Harry!” he repeats, louder this time. The walls aren’t _that_ thin and he knows that if Harry’s there, he’d be standing right outside. “Answer me, for Merlin’s sake!”

He hears a muted thud of the door opening echo in the air right before an irritated, “What is it?” rings through the humid air. His lock has been broken ever since he joined the team and he’s never felt so grateful for it. 

Louis makes sure the curtain is securely in place, not wanting Harry to see even a sliver of his bare skin in the approaching exchange. Just the thought has a flush spreading across his cheeks and his heart racing. “I forgot a towel,” he says. 

“And?” Harry asks. 

Rolling his eyes, Louis huffs. “And I need you to get one for me,” he says, teeth grit. 

Harry sighs annoyedly. 

“ _Please,”_ Louis grits, tamping down the disgust festering in his stomach at having to say please to his least favorite person. 

“I like this new development of you having to be nice to me,” says Harry cockily. Louis bites back a scream. “I’ll get it, hold on.” 

Louis scowls at the tiled wall, water dripping from his fringe and into his eyes. Harry likes it because he likes having power over Louis, having _control._ Very Slytherin of him, he supposes, but it doesn’t make Louis’ indignance lessen at all. 

Harry returns quickly, clearing his throat. When he speaks, he sounds impossibly close, nothing but the thin curtain separating him from Louis’ naked, wet body. 

“I have it,” he says flatly. “You can come out. I won’t look.” 

“Close your eyes,” Louis hisses, fingers curling into the curtain reluctantly. 

“They’re closed!” Harry says exasperatedly. Louis doesn’t move, and he groans. “Come out already. I’m not waiting all day!” 

“Okay, shut up,” Louis spits, biting his lip as he slowly pulls the curtain away. Like he said, Harry is closing his eyes, a frown on his face as he holds the towel out. 

Louis attempts to step over the edge of the shower and grab the towel at the same time but overestimates the distance. 

His fingers curl into the towel and he clings to it desperately as he slips and falls forward with a loud gasp, heart thundering in his ears as he knocks into a hard chest.

Breathing harshly, Louis becomes aware of _three_ things now. 

One, he fell past the curtain and out of the shower. The sudden rush of cold air seeps into his skin and makes him shiver. 

Two, he fell past the curtain and out of the shower right into _Harry_ whose hands are currently gripping his hips excruciatingly tight. 

Three, he’s completely and utterly naked, soaking wet and pressed up against Harry’s bare chest, lips smushed somewhere between his pecs, and the towel lost between their stomachs.

There’s absolutely no space between them. Everything is wet and warm and suddenly Louis feels dizzy, dizzy with the smell of Harry’s earthy shampoo and how broad and strong he feels against him. 

Harry sucks in a breath, grip tightening on his _bare_ hips slowly, deliberately. 

“Louis,” he says, voice grazing across Louis’ insides and making him shiver for an entirely different reason. 

His heart is pounding against his ribs like a drum, thundering in his ears and roaring in his veins. He is frozen in place, undeniably aware of each and every point of contact between him and Harry.

Harry who is also not moving. He’s still gripping Louis’ hips with his big, steady hands and his breath is tickling Louis' forehead and he doesn’t seem to mind that Louis’ face is pressed into his skin. 

Neither of them move. 

The sound of breathing is the only sign that time hasn’t stopped, both of them frozen in place and little to no space between them. 

To his horror, Louis feels himself grow aroused, flushed and spacey at the proximity and Harry’s hands on his body. _He really is so attractive_ , he thinks helplessly. 

Desire is climbing up his lungs, filling his throat and aching to spill out between his lips in the form of a plea. His insides prickle with alarm, conflicted on what to feel. This is _Harry_ after all. Harry Styles, resident Slytherin heartthrob and massive asshole and the one responsible for his injury. But -

There’s no thoughts of disgust or repulsion as he gingerly places his hands on Harry’s shoulders, digging his fingers into the muscled flesh. His mouth opens and he tries to speak. 

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” he blurts abruptly, words tumbling over themselves as his brain fights for coherence. 

Harry stiffens, finally taking a step back and putting some space between them. The tension snaps and is instantly replaced with awkwardness. He averts his eyes as he carefully maneuvers Louis to the bench. His touch is painstakingly gentle and it grates at Louis’ defenses. “Put on your clothes,” he says firmly, taking a few more steps back. 

Louis wraps the towel around himself, shifting restlessly in his spot. Something akin to embarrassment blooms in his stomach. They were- 

There was something about to happen there, he’s sure. And… and perhaps Louis hadn’t been revolted at the thought, maybe he was even a bit intrigued. But Harry just walks out of the stall without another word, shoulders rigid and hands twitching like he’s trying to maintain restraint. 

He dries himself quickly, putting his uniform on and swearing when he struggles to do the knot on his tie. His fingers are shaking and he’s still flushed, flashes of bare skin on bare skin seared into his mind. 

Harry is back in his robes when he finally gains the courage to get out. Neither of them speak as Harry hooks a stiff arm around his middle and they begin their now familiar routine of walking. They make it to the Entrance Hall and once again, Harry opens the door for them before they limp towards the Great Hall for breakfast. 

It’s around half past eight so there’s plenty of students from every house still eating. Harry walks them to the Slytherin table located at the far left. 

“Over there,” Louis directs him, pointing to where Perrie and Jade sit. Liam sits with them sometimes but mostly he goes over to the Ravenclaw table to sit with his boyfriend, Zayn. Louis catches a glance of them now, smiling at the sight of Zayn reading a section of the newspaper aloud while Liam listens impatiently. 

Harry begrudgingly complies, not wasting a second between letting Louis down and disappearing. Louis watches him go, cheeks still stained pink. When he turns back to the table, he’s met with varying looks of surprise and smugness. 

“What?” he demands, grabbing some toast and jam. 

They exchange looks. 

“Nothing, you just look…” Perrie trails off, eyes widening as if to fill in the blanks. 

Louis raises an eyebrow, lost. “I look…?”

“You like you looked in sixth year when Trevor Jacobs asked you to the Christmas Ball,” Jade supplies, smirking. “Shy and infatuated.”

“Except it’s for Styles this time,” Perrie adds, smug. 

“What?” Louis exclaims, their implications shining through. He physically recoils, sputtering loudly. “Me? Infatuated with that _git?”_

“That _fit_ git,” Jade corrects, grinning wickedly. 

“You’re both ridiculous,” he declares, spreading the jam across his bread maybe a bit too aggressively. There’s plenty of other breakfast foods offered thanks to the hard work of the house elves (who Louis likes to visit every once in a while just to check in) but Louis has always liked to work up to things- jam on toast then bacon and eggs and perhaps a pastry just because. He glares down at his knife, blurting out, “What would even give you that idea?”

“Nothing,” Perrie says soothingly. “We don’t mean it in a bad way- we’re just messing with you, babes.”

Louis bites his lip, lasting only a minute before it all comes spilling out. He ducks his head, speaking lowly. “What if I told you that something almost happened between me and Styles in the changing rooms after you guys left?”

When he looks back up, Perrie and Jade are gawking at him. 

“Spill,” Jade urges, slapping the table for emphasis. “Immediately!”

He tells them the condensed version, cheeks hot as he mumbles the part about the shower and being naked. 

“Only you, Lou,” Perrie says, shaking her head. 

“I don’t even know why I thought anything would happen anyway,” he grumbles. “Styles made his lack of interest in me very clear in fifth year.”

Jade raises an eyebrow. “I can’t believe you’re still on about that,” she says, shaking her head. “Actually, I can’t believe _that’s_ the reason you hate him so much.” 

“He’s such an arse,” Louis complains, stabbing his butter knife into his sad piece of toast. “Flirted with me for months and then fucking swept me off my feet in front of the entire school, _literally._ ” He glares at his plate, remembering his sixteen-year-old self and how gone he was after McStevens from Hufflepuff rammed into him on the pitch, knocking him off his broom and straight into Harry’s (unfairly strong, _protective_ ) arms. 

They won the game and Louis had gone to Harry, a wide grin on his face and hope fluttering in his chest. He had opened his mouth to thank Harry for catching him like that, only to be dismissed with a cold, blank stare as Harry walked right past him. 

In front of everyone. 

The embarrassment and utter mortification never really went away, prickling at his insides even now as he stabs his toast again. His anger flares up too because how dare he? How fucking dare he? “I take back anything I said about not minding if something happened,” he spits venomously. “I hate Harry Styles and his entitled, egotistical arse.” 

“I’m heartbroken,” a voice says flatly. 

Louis jumps, heart leaping to his throat as he spins around. 

Harry stands there stiffly, his lips in a straight line. “I’m leaving now so if you don’t want to risk Liam’s wrath and get someone else to help you, hurry up.”

“I’ve barely even started eating,” Louis complains, knife clattering onto the table when he drops it indignantly. 

“Not my problem you’re slow,” Harry drawls, casting a disdainful look to Perrie and Jade who are watching their exchange wide-eyed. “Maybe you’d be farther along if you weren’t so busy talking shite.”

Louis scowls at him, grabbing a banana from the nearest fruit bowl and huffing. “Fine,” he gives in annoyedly. “Bye, guys,” he says to Perrie and Jade apologetically, not even flinching when Harry pulls him to a standing position. 

“Did you really have to leave right _now?”_ Louis complains, bumping his shoulder against Harry’s arm roughly when Harry grips his hip on the right side of too hard. 

“I have better things to do than wait for you all the time,” Harry dismisses, walking them in the direction of the dungeon. 

Huffing, Louis digs his feet into the ground, a desperate attempt to get Harry to stop walking. Except, all it does is make Harry tighten his grip and continue to yank him forward. Damn him and his bloody strong arms, honestly. 

“What if I want to go outside?” he says, not so accidentally stepping on Harry’s toe when they reach the staircase. 

“I’ll leave you here if you keep being a brat,” Harry hisses, the threat ringing true. 

“Liam will be mad at you,” Louis counters, but he quits the physical assaults for now. He can pick and choose his battles - there’s nearly seven hours left of their punishment after all. 

Harry deigns not to retort and once again, they’re submerged into sticky silence, resentment and tension burning between them. 

Louis is all too aware of every single place Harry is touching him, flashes of how it felt to be pressed up to his front, those long fingers curled around his hips. He shudders quietly, disgust blooming right after. 

_Giant squid,_ he reminds himself. 

They make it to the dorms without any other incident, much to the relief of any surrounding students and portraits who have most likely been witnesses to past Tomlinson-Styles screaming matches. 

Harry begrudgingly helps him to his room to grab his books so he can study in the common room before disappearing with a muttered promise about being back by lunch. 

Louis tries not to let the annoyance of having to depend on trusting Harry’s word in order to get around fester and instead works on finishing his Transfiguration and Charms homework, keeping his leg propped up on a chair because elevation is supposed to help. The two classes are both ones he enjoys so he doesn’t struggle much, starting up a conversation with Hayley who’s groaning about Potions at the table behind him. 

His mind wanders to Harry and his naked torso a few times but he’d never admit it. 

-

Harry does not come back by lunch. 

Louis waits and waits as the minutes trickle past and his irritation delves into fury. He’s practically vibrating with anger by the time people are returning from the Great Hall, having already eaten. 

In the end, he bribes a random fourth year with half his stock of Fizzing Whizbees to get him some food which he eats angrily, stuck in the common room. 

He’s sure Jade and Perrie are probably out on the grounds flying or hanging out in the gardens, unaware that he’s been stranded by himself. Liam’s probably with Zayn somewhere and all his other friends are probably out having fun too. It’s early May and it’s warm and pleasant out so it’s not like he can fault them. 

Their time at Hogwarts is slowly ticking down, their last Hogwarts Quidditch game this coming week and then studying for N.E.W.T.S which begin the first week of June, and then on the last Saturday of the month they’ll board the train and leave Hogwarts’ grounds for the final time. The _last_ thing Louis wants to do right now is be stuck inside. 

Groaning, he glances at the clock again. It’s been over _five hours_ since Harry left - where the bloody hell is he? 

His insides pulse with annoyance, glaring at the stack of his textbooks on the table in front of him. He’s finished all his assignments ages ago and he’s bored out of his mind. Barely anyone is inside except some younger year students, giggling and studying in the corner. Louis remembers when those people were huddled nervously together in the beginning of the school year, trying not to take too much space because they were new and anxious and didn’t feel like they deserved to yet. 

He remembers _himself_ in the same boat, wide-eyed and in awe when he arrived in Hogwarts and was sorted into Slytherin, scared he wouldn’t be able to fit in or that it was all some cosmic joke and he actually didn’t have magic and would be sent home. 

His parents are both muggles, is the thing - not a dash of magic in either of them. He can still remember the morning in early August when a wizard showed up at their doorstep with his Hogwarts acceptance letter in hand and a whole new world to offer - can remember the shock on his parents’ faces when she explained the existence of magic and that Louis had it in his blood. 

And now here he is. 

The strength of his nostalgia and wistfulness has him so distracted that he almost misses the loud entrance of a familiar cursing figure. 

It’s Harry. 

Louis sits up, earlier anger and frustration flooding back tenfold. 

Harry hasn’t even looked in his direction, too busy grumbling under his breath and batting at his robes. It takes Louis a second to realize why - the bottom half of his robes are _scorched_ , smoke curling from the hems and soot falling onto the floor when Harry shakes them, huffing. His face is smeared with some ash too, obnoxiously and unjustly highlighting the sharp angles of his face. 

Curiosity and confusion isn’t enough to quell Louis’ temper. He grabs the nearest item - an abandoned copy of _Tales of Beedle and Bard_ and throws it. 

It hits Harry in the side, bouncing off and hitting the floor with a weighty thump. Harry freezes, body going rigid as he turns to see Louis glaring at him. He grits his teeth, jaw set as he grunts, “I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit right now, Louis.” 

“I wasn’t in the mood to sit here for _five fucking hours_ and miss lunch because you decided to go cause trouble,” Louis seethes, gesturing angrily. 

Harry just rolls his eyes. “For Merlin’s sake, just _shut the fuck up_ for once.” He stomps over to him, leaving a trail of soot as he goes. 

Louis wrinkles his nose when Harry yanks him up. “You’re going to get ash all over me,” he complains, bumping his shoulder into Harry’s side when he begins moving. 

He’s radiating tension and annoyance, no traces of gentleness when he immediately lets go of Louis when they reach his room. 

“Hang on a second,” Louis narrows his eyes, using the doorframe for support. “I want to go outside.” 

“Too bad,” Harry grunts, scowling. “I need a shower.” Then he turns around and starts walking away. 

Never one to back down that easily, Louis grits his teeth and uses the wall for support as he tries to put as little pressure on his hurt leg as possible, limping determinedly but painfully. “I’m not just going to sit around all day,” he snaps, glaring at the back of Harry’s head as he keeps striding ahead, heading for his own dorm room. 

Harry opens the door and steps inside, turning and -

Louis lunges forward and barely manages to tumble through before Harry can slam the door in his face. “You cannot fucking abandon me,” he seethes. “Liam said you have to help me around.” 

“You’re injured,” Harry says firmly, turning around and walking towards his trunk without a care. He shrugs off his burned robes, tossing them onto his bed unceremoniously. His white shirt is covered in soot, wrinkled and smudged beyond repair. What in Merlin’s Beard was he doing? “You should be on bedrest, not bugging me whenever you get bored. I’m not your babysitter.” 

“I am not an invalid,” Louis scowls, biting his inner cheek as he leans against the wall and off his splinted leg. “Look, I just want to go -” He breaks off, sucking in a breath when he realizes Harry is _taking off his shirt._

His throat goes dry as his eyes flicker down to Harry’s stomach, watching them go taut as Harry stretches absently. Cheeks hot, he fumbles for his prior train of thought but comes up short. “I… I just want - can’t you just -”

Harry stares at him, brows furrowed in confusion. He takes in Louis’ flustered expression and the way his eyes wander over the swallow tattoos under his collarbone and the ferns near his hips. A slow smirk curls around his lips. “It’s rude to stare,” he says smugly. 

Louis grimaces, shuddering exaggeratedly. “I’m not staring,” he denies, the lie falling flat even to his own ears. That and the fact that his cheeks are bright red give him away. 

“You are,” Harry says easily, looking amused. He turns to angle his body towards Louis, the hard muscles of his torso obvious and distinct. “You can even touch if you want,” he drawls lazily. 

“I wouldn’t go near you with a ten-foot broom,” Louis maintains, fingers curling into his own robes to hide the way they tremble. He keeps his eyes on Harry’s face but that proves just as dangerous, swallowing at the confidence and curiosity spread across his features, green eyes glittering with consideration. 

And then Harry takes a step forward and Louis stills, biting his lip. 

“What’re you doing?” he asks nervously. 

Harry ignores him, amusement growing as he takes another two steps and Louis flinches, blush growing. 

He can’t help the way his heart thunders in his ears, desire and lust blossoming in his veins and overwhelming him. His brain has gone dim, stuck between repulsion and dropping to his knees. 

Unable to move, he does nothing as Harry closes the distance between them, head tilting up to meet his gaze when Harry stops right before him, big, broad, and everything Louis likes. 

The remaining mere inches of space between them crackle with tension, like a living pulsing creature luring them in. Louis leans forward inadvertently, exhaling deeply. 

“If I knew all it took to shut you up was to walk around half-naked...” Harry starts, voice dropping to a low murmur. He tilts his head down, a cocky look on his face. 

“I hate you so much,” Louis breathes, his annoyance flaring, but then he’s digging his fingers into Harry’s shoulders, using them for support as he rocks up onto his toes and kisses him on the mouth. 

Harry’s hands settle at the dip of his waist almost automatically, big and warm and encompassing most of his sides. He crowds Louis against the wall, letting him lean back on the surface and take the weight off of his injured leg as Harry’s hands keep him steady. 

Alarm and disbelief ring through his brain. He’s kissing Harry - He’s _kissing_ _Harry_ and he’s _enjoying_ it. Harry kisses like he does anything else: slowly and lazily but somehow simultaneously thoroughly and overwhelmingly. He slides hand up to cradle the side of Louis’ face, tilting it where he wants. 

Louis whimpers when Harry bites down on his bottom lip, parting them unconsciously. He feels dazed as Harry licks into his mouth, hand on his hip sliding under his robes and shirt until it’s flattened against Louis’ bare stomach, feeling it rise and fall with every breath against his fingers. 

Suddenly Louis feels like he’s suffocating, gasping for air when Harry detaches their lips in favor of dragging his lips down his throat and sucking a bruise onto the base of his neck. He doesn’t protest as Harry tugs his robes off and then loosens his tie, teeth scraping down to his collarbone once he tugs the collar down far enough to access. 

Harry slides a thigh between his legs, pressing into his hardening cock and providing something for Louis to grind into as Harry continues sucking a path of love bites down to his chest. 

They’re - they’re going to fuck, aren’t they? That’s where this is escalating to, each of them growing more and more desperate. To his horror, he feels enthusiasm flicker inside him, shivers wracking down his body as he feels Harry’s length against his hip, big and thick even through layers of fabric.

Despite his panic, there’s no hesitation when Harry hoists him up and Louis locks his uninjured leg around his waist, other leg being braced with a careful ringed hand. Harry carries him quickly to the bed and sets him down with a surprising amount of care. Then he’s undoing the buttons of Louis’ shirt while Louis pulls his tie off, struggling with the zip to his pants because Harry is blocking his view. 

Harry ends up doing it himself, sucking a mark onto his hip bone as he carefully slides the material lower and lower and then completely off. 

A glimpse of guilt flashes over his face as he glances down at Louis’ splint and bandaged hamstring but it disappears when Louis whines impatiently, hips bucking up into open air, seeking out friction and relief. Harry yanks his underwear down over the curve of his arse, pressing his lips to his stomach right over his belly button and lingering long enough for Louis to feel a tremor run through him. 

Then he pulls back to shove his own pants and boxers down. Louis swallows when his cock pops out, hard and leaking at the tip. 

Louis isn’t exactly oblivious to the rumors of how Harry is in bed but he definitely had underestimated the claims to his size. He’s big - bigger than anyone as infuriating as him has any right to be. 

However, the thought of having it inside him very soon has him tamping down any excess annoyance, reaching up to tug Harry back down to him. He complies, settling between his thighs and bracing himself on his forearms as he bites down on Louis’ shoulder, eliciting a high whimper. 

Even though Louis is flat on his back, his leg is in an uncomfortable position and he hisses in pain when Harry accidentally moves it too far to the left. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry blurts, eyes wide. His eyes flicker down to Louis’ leg, filled with guilt. “I’m so sorry.” 

Louis doesn’t know how to handle the apology - or rather, _both_ apologies - so he opts to lean up and connect their lips, whimpering when Harry bites down on his bottom one again, hard enough to draw blood. 

He keens when Harry ducks down to mouth at his nipples, smacking Harry in the shoulder when he has the nerve to murmur, “Sensitive, are you?” 

And though Harry is an arrogant twat, Louis can’t help but moan in pleasure when Harry continues to bite and suck at his nipples, soothing the sting with his tongue. He’s squirming by the time Harry decides to give him mercy, lips ghosting down his torso to his stomach where he pauses to nip and suck a few more bruises onto the soft skin there. 

Then he’s nosing into Louis’ inner thigh, breath fanning out over his leaking prick and making Louis squirm even more. 

“Lube,” he gasps. “Need lube.” If they had their wands, Harry wouldn’t have to get up and stagger to his trunk to rummage for it, but alas, Louis waits impatiently for him to return, shivering at the sudden loss of warmth. 

Harry slicks up his fingers quickly, hitching Louis’ uninjured leg over his shoulder and using his other hand to spread his cheeks and expose his hole. 

Louis exhales at the first intrusion, slowly relaxing around Harry’s finger as he eases it in carefully. His eyes flutter shut, breathing deeply as Harry starts working it in and out of him. It’s been a while since he’s used his own fingers on himself let alone had someone else’s in his arse, but if anything, the slight pain makes him even more dizzy, aching to be filled up properly. 

“‘Nother,” he slurs, trying in vain to press into Harry’s finger and speed him up. 

Harry won’t be goaded though, shushing him quickly and only sliding in a second digit when he deems Louis ready. Two becomes three and then three becomes four and Louis grows more impatient, whining and trying to arch up and fuck himself on Harry’s fingers. 

He chokes when Harry finds his spot, body going rigid and cock spurting some precum as he starts writing against the sheets. “Hurry up,” he urges. Harry ignores him, continuing to scissor and crook his fingers like he has no qualms spending all day with his fingers tucked into Louis’ arse. Tears of frustration brim in his eyes and he whines again. “So help me,” he grits, “I will hex you if you don’t -”

“Be quiet,” Harry interrupts, sliding his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets carelessly. 

Louis mewls at the loss, hole clenching down on nothing as he waits for Harry to get on the condom and slick up. If they had their wands, Harry could just cast a protection charm and Louis could get fucked the way he wants but they have to settle for this for now. The disappointment pooling in his stomach at the thought should not feel that poignant. 

Finally, _finally,_ Harry lines himself up, slapping his cock against Louis’ hole a few times as if teasing him with its presence before slowly easing in. 

Sucking in a breath, Louis tries to relax, wincing at the stretch. It really has been a long time, he thinks dazedly. But he grits his teeth through the discomfort until Harry bottoms out. 

“Go,” he urges, eyes flickering shut again as Harry pulls out before thrusting in experimentally, not bothering to start off slow as he carves out a steady rhythm, the slow but thorough drag of his hips rendering Louis into a whimpering mess. 

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” Harry grunts, head dropping forward between his shoulders as he continues pushing in deeper and deeper. It feels like he’s trying to push right up into Louis’ stomach, each movement shoving Louis farther and farther up the mattress. 

The headboard starts creaking almost immediately and Louis distantly expresses gratitude that the weather is so nice and no one is here to witness this, unlocked door only sparking a minor prickle of apprehension before Harry quite literally fucks it out of him. 

He lets out a strangled cry when Harry finds his spot, hands scrambling to the sheets to hang on for dear life as Harry speeds up, emboldened by his noises. Harry fucks like it’s the only thing he knows how to do, like it’s pure instinct the way his hips meet Louis’ arse on every thrust, fluid and natural and completely automatic. 

Harry ducks down to mouth at his pulse, all tongue and teeth and pure adrenaline. He bites down on Louis’ shoulder again, movements fervent but assured. “Feel good?” he grunts. 

Unable to form words, Louis just shudders at the hoarseness in his voice. 

“Am I boring you?” Harry asks then, slamming into him harder and harder. His mouth ghosts over Louis’ ear before he bites down on his earlobe, making him jerk. “Is this _boring_ to you, Louis?” 

Louis gasps out, eyes fluttering open as confusion blooms in his mind. He’s unable to think about it too long, deciding to go along with it. “No,” he breathes, fingers digging into the sheets and scrambling for purchase as Harry’s rough thrusts grow in intensity. 

“No,” Harry agrees, pausing to mouth at his throat again before pressing him against the bed even harder. “Say it,” he demands. 

“You’re not- ah! Not boring,” Louis rasps, jerking when Harry angles just right and rams straight up into his prostate. 

“Look at me,” he commands, eyes dark and heavy as they rake over his body unabashedly, taking in every quiver of his fingers and every rise and fall of his stomach. His hips are snapping forward almost unconsciously, maintaining his steady pace and hitting his spot on every few thrusts. 

Louis looks, unable to disobey even if he tried. He traces his eyes over the sharp lines of Harry’s face, his blown out pupils, the soot still smudged across his cheeks, the slope of his nose, the sweat glimmering on his forehead, and the furrow of concentration between his brows. 

Harry slides a hand over his throat, fingers curling into his skin. Louis’ breath hitches automatically and Harry tracks it. “Can I?” he murmurs. 

“Please,” Louis whimpers, whining when Harry obliges and presses down firmly. His airflow is cut off for ten intense seconds in which his vision goes hazy and he chokes, clenching down and thrashing.

He comes with a strangled scream right as Harry lets go, ears ringing as Harry immediately stuffs three of his fingers between his parted lips. He accepts them sluggishly, suckling on them diligently as Harry chases his own release, shoving in as deep as he can before coming with a guttural groan. 

Louis feels floaty, muscles slack and colors dancing in his eyes. The ache that’s been settled deep in his bones has finally been fulfilled and he basks in the satisfaction, slowly catching his breath. 

Harry pulls out and they both wince from oversensitivity. He ties off the condom and throws it into the bin, rolling onto the bed beside Louis. Their sides are touching completely, the bed too cramped to fit two people without having them at this close proximity. 

For a while, they just breathe. 

Louis has no idea what just happened - well, of course he knows what just happened and that is that he had quite possibly the best sex of his entire life, he just doesn’t know what it means, what it means for him and Harry and their less than stable relationship. 

Even more worrying, he doesn’t know what he _wants_ it to mean. 

So he waits for Harry to initiate any conversation but he never speaks, nothing but the sound of his breathing and the warmth of his skin against Louis’ to prove that he’s still present. Maybe they’re not meant to talk about it, Louis thinks. 

Harry sits up abruptly a moment later, turning to look down at Louis with his bottom lip trapped between his teeth. “I was with Hagrid,” he blurts. 

Louis stills, eyebrows raising in surprise. “What?”

“S’why I was gone so long,” Harry shrugs, sounding gruff and nonchalant. However, Louis can catch a flicker of guilt in his words and the realization leaves him speechless. “I help him out on the weekends sometimes and today he was having trouble wrangling the fire crabs.” 

Fire crabs. Well, that explains the singed robes. Louis nods curtly, letting the information process in his head. Fire crabs, for fuck’s sake. “Okay,” he says, expectant. 

Harry blanches, gritting his teeth and croaking out a reluctant, “I’m sorry.”

Biting his lip, Louis nods again, trying not to think about how this is the _second_ apology he’s received from Harry in the past hour. “I forgive you,” he says, and he means it. There are no traces of his previous anger and irritation lingering in his veins, just satisfaction and contentment. Harry quite literally fucked the resentment out of him. Whether it’s temporary or not remains to be seen. 

They both fall silent. Harry averts his eyes from Louis’ naked body pointedly, clearing his throat awkwardly. Louis resists the urge to scoff. 

So… they really aren’t going to talk about it. _That’s fine,_ he thinks. It was a one time thing. Just a temporary lapse in judgement. Two wizards mutually and consensually blowing off steam. 

“Wait,” Harry says, cutting off Louis’ brain babble. “What’s the time?”

Louis frowns, glancing at the nearest clock and then blinking at what he sees. He gasps loudly. “The twenty-four hour mark happened five minutes ago,” he exclaims. 

They stare at each other for a tense few moments and then scramble for their clothes. Louis tries to stand up but his knees immediately buckle, rendered stiff and weaker than before thanks to his risky and admittedly heedless actions over the past hour. 

He’s utterly surprised when Harry guides him back down to the bed and helps him get dressed, sliding his pants over his injured leg with deft fingers and helping him put on his robes. 

And then they’re rushing out the door - or the closest they can do to rushing when Louis is still limping (perhaps for more reasons than one this time, not that he’d ever admit it). 

As they move, the memories of what transpired between them finally register in Louis’ mind and color floods his cheeks. Neither of them speak, an unmistakable and unfamiliar awkwardness settling around them. 

Liam is studying in the library with Zayn when they arrive, raising an eyebrow as he takes in their stiff postures and the obvious tension crackling in the space between them. 

He gestures to their wands on the table and then raises his finger to his lips to shush them, tilting his head towards Zayn who’s reading his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook with a look of intense concentration on his face, undoubtedly already studying for their N.E.W.T.S next month. 

Harry grabs them both and hands Louis’ to him before pointing his down to Louis’ injured leg, drawing a diagonal line in the air over his thigh. _“Episkey,”_ he murmurs, a gentleness in his voice Louis didn't expect. 

Louis hisses in relief as he feels the muscles in his leg loosen and heal, relieving him of the stiffness and inability to move. He takes a step forward gingerly, exhaling deeply when no shock of pain is elicited when his foot meets the ground. 

Healed. He’s healed. 

Liam is giving them an odd look when they turn back to him, waiting for a dismissal. “You guys aren’t glaring at each other.” 

Louis shrugs. “We’re just relieved it’s over,” he says, and it’s not entirely a lie. He _is_ relieved his incapacitation period is over, finally free to walk and run and move as much as he wants. 

“So I take it you’re not best mates,” Liam says, smiling amusedly. “You guys still look like you’d rather kiss a dementor than touch.” 

They chuckle awkwardly at that, internally wincing at how Liam had it right while simultaneously all wrong. 

“Well, it’s over now,” he says brightly. Narrowing his eyes, he reminds them, “If you pull this shite in the big game, I don’t care if we’re friends, I’ll hex you both myself.”

“Yes, Captain,” they echo. 

Liam nods, satisfied. He waves them off quickly. “Now bugger off.” 

They turn around in unison, maintaining the gap of distance between them as they quietly leave the room. They brush sides on accident after trying to squeeze through the door at the same time, pausing to blink at each other for a few stilted seconds before looking away again. 

Louis can’t even begin to explain how much he needs a drink. 

-

After they leave, Zayn sets his textbook down, the laugh he was holding in for the past five minutes finally spilling out. 

Glancing at him in confusion, Liam furrows his brows. “What?” 

“You do realize they fucked, right?” Zayn says, brows raised. 

Liam gapes. _“What?”_

-

And even though Louis’ first plan had been to get as far away from Harry Styles as possible, he still finds himself walking beside him as they both head back to the Slytherin common room. It’s evening now, hues of yellow and orange from the setting sun filtering through the windows as they walk down the corridor. 

It’s evening and everyone is slowly coming back inside, hair mussed from the wind and wide smiles from a day filled with the sun and fresh air. Louis envies their carefreeness, glowering as they make it to the staircase. 

At one point, a trio of giggling girls run past them, robes billowing out behind them as they squeal and chase after each other. 

“Who is that happy at six o’clock in the evening?” he grumbles before he can think it through, stomach curling with envy and reproach. 

“There’s no need to spread your misery to the entire castle,” Harry says in reply. 

Louis narrows his eyes, mouth almost dropping open in shock when he glances at Harry and sees the smile curving his lips. Not even just a smile - a full fledged _grin._

“I…” he says, at a loss for words. It takes him a second to recover. “You said I was a princess this morning, and everyone knows that if the princess is unhappy, the entire castle is unhappy,” he says haughtily, trying to calm the racing of his heart. 

“Right,” Harry scoffs, but he’s _still_ grinning, dimple out in full force and looking like some sort of angel. 

He feels more unnerved by the sight than he ever thought he would. 

It’s so weird, is the thing, having Harry Styles grinning at him - having that charming curve of his lips be both caused and directed towards him and only him - when he’s so used to a scowl or grimace or glare or a mixture of all three.

But he just made Harry smile, a genuine smile that lights up his entire face and makes him look even more handsome than usual. 

It makes him wonder - wonder what it would be like if this was a natural occurrence. If Harry smiling at him happened often. If them getting along was as easy as it feels right now. 

Except it isn’t that easy. Because in fifth year, Louis had a crush. He had a crush and he was rejected in front of everyone, curling dread forming in his stomach at the mere thought of it. That was the spark that lit the flame. 

He can remember that day so clearly. And he can remember spiteful words and bickering and glares and hexing and pranks and other admittedly childish but utterly genuine acts that followed. He can remember the way the small flicker grew into a bonfire. He can dig down deep and feel the resentment that’s sprouted so far down he doesn’t even know if he can reach the bottom of it. 

But most of all, he’s just confused. 

Because why did everything happen like this? How did they end up here? With such a negative history between them that seemed to disappear because they slept together. How can that be? How can that be that they hate each other so much but they were still able to find common ground and let go of all that anger in a few seconds? 

And most of all - why did Harry walk away from him that day? Louis has spent an unspeakable and honestly embarrassing amount of time replaying that moment in his head over and over, searching for an explanation or rational reason Harry acted the way he did. 

_Am I boring you?_ echoes in his head and he exhales. Harry is still grinning but there’s a twinge of confusion on his face like he’s noticed Louis’ grimace, wondering what’s wrong. 

Louis tries to push down the flood of aching confusion and curiosity coursing through him, tries to ignore the words clawing up his throat and fighting to spill out. _He’s smiling_ , he tells himself. Harry’s got a smile on his face that’s directed to him and _dammit_ he kind of wants to keep it there. 

Of course, he’s never been one for keeping his mouth shut. 

“What is it with you and the word _boring?”_ he blurts, loud and abrupt. 

Harry stiffens, his previous grin flattening out into a thin line as he recoils as if shocked. His brows dip in the middle and his stare turns into a harsh glare, closing off right before Louis’ eyes. “Are you serious?” he asks, annoyance dripping from his words. 

Confusion bubbles up in Louis’ chest, taken aback at the abrupt and cold reaction. “Um… yeah?” he says slowly, mind scrambling for an explanation. 

“Of course you don’t remember,” Harry scoffs, looking annoyed all over again. Louis can practically see the tentative peace they had built crumble into the ground and shattering into a million pieces. “Because all you do is talk shite about people you know nothing about.”

Louis’s mouth drops open, the blow stinging more than he expected. “What is your problem?” he snaps, hurt prickling in his stomach. 

“My _problem_ is that you’re the type of person who acts all sweet and nice to someone and then secretly makes fun of them behind their back,” Harry says, words cutting through like a knife. 

Accusation processing, Louis gapes. “What the fuck? I don’t do that!” The only person Louis really talks shite about behind their back is _Harry_ and that’s hardly a secret to anyone. And he’d never pretend to be nice to someone and act the complete opposite towards them in private.

“You do,” Harry denies, a million different emotions flashing over his face before he’s shaking his head and stepping back. “I can’t believe I thought this was actually -” He breaks off, snorting. And then he turns around and starts walking away, heading back upstairs and away from the dungeons, leaving a stunned and fuming Louis in his wake. 

Louis takes it back, there is a reason for the hatred and it’s _this._ Unprovoked and confusing and overwhelming, Harry always hits him where it hurts. And Louis always hits back. It’s a never ending cycle but it’s a cycle for a reason. 

He was stupid to think otherwise. 

-

Sunday morning, Louis sleeps in. Their quidditch practice routine changes over the course of the year depending on individual schedules and other factors but Liam _never_ schedules a practice on Sunday mornings, saying it’s only fair there’s one constant reprieve to rely on. 

He wakes up around noon, yawning as he shuffles into the common room and rubs at his eyes blearily. He finds Jade and Perrie and they catch lunch together (or a late breakfast in Louis’ case), both of them express happiness that his leg is healed and he’ll be able to hang out with them properly. 

“You won’t have to interact with Styles again!” Perrie says after and Louis nods, forcing a smile and ignoring the bile that rises in his throat at the truth of her words. 

Try as he might, Louis can’t get Harry out of his head. Can’t get his eyes or his smile or his dimples or the look of concentration on his face when he was fucking into him and-

And the angry look on his face when he basically said that Louis was a terrible person.

Grimacing, he follows Jade and Perrie outside the hall and pushes any and all thoughts of infuriating Slytherin beaters out of his head. 

It doesn’t work. 

They walk the Hogwarts grounds and go flying outside before returning to the castle, heading up to the Room of Requirement where they conjure a TV and watch movies until Perrie leaves to go see her boyfriend, and Jade has to go finish her homework. Through it all, Louis can’t stop thinking. 

He’s thinking as he walks down to the dungeons, chin dipped to his chest and a frown on his face, so lost in his own head that he misses the approaching figure and bumps right into a firm body.

Stiffening, Louis realizes instantly that his unintentional thinking has indirectly conjured Harry right in front of him. 

He sees the exact moment Harry realizes it’s him, the way his outstretched hands immediately falter and drop back to his sides, sees the way a grimace curls onto his lips of their own accord, like it’s his automatic reaction. 

For a second, they just stare at each other. The now familiar tension and awkwardness blooms between them like a flower, an extremely poisonous one. 

A million thoughts race through Louis’ head: angry thoughts, confused thoughts, dirty thoughts, curious musings to where Harry has been all day, what he likes to do when he’s got free time - if he was out helping Hagrid again or flirting with pretty girls or boys or -

He blinks, a light blush spreading across his face.

Then Harry exhales through his nose and makes to walk past him. 

Louis bites his lip, words tumbling out of him before he can help it. “Why did you walk away?” he asks, embarrassment sprouting immediately. 

Harry freezes in place and Louis steps back, shaking his head.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says hurriedly. “Sorry, continue on.” He’s bright red now, deciding the best course of action is for him to walk away first so that’s what he does. 

“You mean in fifth year?” Harry says, making Louis pause in his walking, shoulders slumping when he realizes there’s no way he’s going to be able to walk away from this conversation, not when he’s been waiting over two years for an explanation, a rational and justified reason to why Harry dismissed him so coldly. 

Louis turns around slowly, gathering himself as best as he can, hoping Harry can’t see the anxious twitch to his limbs as he tries to relax his posture. “Yes,” he breathes. “I mean fifth year.”

“Really?” Harry asks. This time his voice is more filled with disbelief than mockery and it has some of the tension in Louis’ shoulders loosening. 

“Yeah, really,” Louis says, taking a deep breath and ducking his head. As bold as he’s being right now, he knows he can’t look Harry in the eye for this, can’t even try. At least he’s not being mean, he thinks. He just needs to get it all out and then go downstairs and try not to cry as he thinks of how things could have been if Harry didn’t decide to hate him first and Louis didn’t decide to hate him back. “I know we don’t like each other very much but that wasn’t always the case with me. You embarrassing me like that in front of everyone? It hurt.” 

Harry stares at him. “Wait, what?”

“And like… I still don’t know what exactly I did to you to make you act like that to me or maybe you were just having a bad day,” he shrugs, trying to downplay how affected he feels. “I hate that I’ve never been able to let it go but I haven’t. So I’m asking now.”

“You -” Harry cuts off, confusion spreading across his face. “You were talking shite about me.”

Now it’s Louis’ turn to stare. “Excuse me?”

“Right before the game,” Harry says disbelievingly. The furrow between his brows grows as he shakes his head. “You- you said I was boring. And that I was your least favorite person on the team.” 

_Boring._ Louis gapes. “I never said that,” he blurts. 

Harry shoots him a scathing look. “Except you did,” he says flatly. “You said my name and everything.” 

Louis shakes his head, confusion growing. There’s no way he would have said something like that - not about _Harry_ who he liked so much and wanted so much. There’s no way - 

It hits him all at once. Seventh-year chaser Lucy Harrington teasing him about his crush on Harry and Louis denying it because he was flustered and embarrassed. Lucy telling him that if he was going to lie about his feelings and make her believe it, he should at least try to say it with more meaning. 

And Louis going along with it, thinking it was just for fun and responding with, “ _Harry Styles? I don’t like him, what are you talking about? He’s so_ **_boring._ ** _If anything, he’s my least favorite person on the team.”_

He exhales deeply. “Harry, that was - that was a joke,” he says, guilt and heavy remorse churning in his stomach. Harry overheard him when he said those things - he _overheard_ him and that’s why he walked away. 

Harry overheard him and he still caught Louis on the pitch, still brought him down to the ground carefully and helped him off his broom, holding him like he was something precious. He did all that when he thought Louis said those terrible things about him. 

“A joke,” Harry repeats flatly. 

Louis feels like laughing or crying hysterically, face pale as he nods. “I didn’t - I didn’t think those things, Harry, it was the exact opposite. I thought you were the coolest person in our year, for fuck’s sake.” Harry Styles and his effortless quidditch skills and easy intelligence. Harry Styles and his many rings and endless charm. Harry Styles, the wizard no one could keep their eyes off of. “I had the biggest crush on you,” he mumbles, thinking that with all the misunderstandings piling up between them, the best thing to do is to be honest. 

“You’re joki-” Harry pauses. “You’re kidding,” he amends, face unreadable when Louis gains the courage to glance up at him. He sees Harry’s adam’s apple bob as he swallows thickly. “You’re -”

“That’s the truth,” Louis says - _promises._ “And I’m sorry I said those things, joke or not. I thought it was a joke and I didn’t mean it but I still said it. I made you think I meant it and I’m sorry.” 

He pauses to breath, looking up at Harry expectantly and swallowing when he sees the look on Harry’s face. 

“You liked me,” he repeats, sounding pained at the admission. 

“I did,” Louis echoes, throat dry. 

“I…” Harry breaks off, grimacing. “I liked you too. A lot.” 

“Oh,” Louis breathes, a peculiar feeling rising in his chest and curling down to his toes. Past tense, he tells himself. Harry _liked_ him. 

“Oh,” Harry agrees. 

“It was a misunderstanding,” Louis says dazedly. “It was all a misunderstanding.”

“Louis,” says Harry raggedly, “I’m sorry I let you get hit with a bludger. It… ” He ducks his head. “It actually wasn’t on purpose but the reason I wasn’t paying attention was because I was being stubborn and petty and for that, I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” Louis says softly, and he means it too. “I’m sorry I yelled at you…. and put a niffler in your things.” 

Harry snorts at that, the corners of his lips lifting up in a surprised smile. It fades a second later, replaced by a look of great remorse. “I’m sorry I walked away.” 

“I would have too if I overheard you saying something like that to me,” Louis admits, blushing. All this time… 

“I feel so stupid,” Harry confesses, taking a careful step forward like he’s afraid Louis will yell at him for it. 

“You and me both,” Louis whispers, the opposite of yelling. 

They stare at each other, as if seeing themselves for the first time. 

“Louis,” Harry murmurs again, voice lowering into something more heavy. “Louis, I -”

“Are you guys actually having a civil conversation?” a voice interrupts. 

They both freeze, turning to see Liam descending the steps behind them. He looks shocked and maybe a bit proud, switching his gaze between the two of them like he can’t quite believe his own eyes. 

“Never thought I’d see the day,” he says, shaking his head and miming wiping a tear off his cheek. 

“Don’t get too excited,” Louis says, clearing his throat to hide the waver in his voice. “S’just a conversation.” Just a very enlightening and monumental conversation. 

“Well, by all means,” Liam says, gesturing between them with a pleased grin. “Continue.” He keeps smiling, staying in his place. 

So he’s going to stay here… right. 

“Actually, we were pretty much finished up,” Louis says hastily, hoping the flush on his cheeks has faded away by now. He scratches the back of his neck nervously, forcing a strained smile. 

“Yeah, I was just going to _shower,”_ Harry says and if Louis isn’t mistaken, he put an extra emphasis on the word ‘shower.’ 

An extra, intentional emphasis. Heart racing, he flicks his eyes to Harry who is looking at Liam pointedly. 

Was that… an invitation? 

“Ah, well, okay,” Liam says, looking between the two of them like he’s just remembered something. Whatever it is, he seems to brush it off and the three of them continue their descent down the staircase and into the dungeons. 

Louis feels faint as they reach the familiar bare slab of stone and Liam says the password, letting them into the common room. He finds himself tilting his head back and staring up at the aquarium ceiling and into the lake above them, seeing if any creatures are out. 

Hogwarts’ resident giant squid is noticeably not present. 

He looks away. 

Liam says goodbye and so does Harry, heading for the boys’ dormitories without a care in the world. Louis watches him go, the lump in his throat growing. 

It _was_ an invitation, right? 

And more importantly, Louis wants to go, right?

He stands there, mulling over the implications. If he goes, it means everything really changes. He and Harry have hated each other for so long and now the rug has been pulled out from under them.

It’s completely gone now, in fact, and Louis is flailing, hard enough that he knows he’s about to crash and fall.

Falling is okay, except when it leads to him getting hurt. He doesn’t like feeling hurt and the wound from that disastrous day is the perfect example why. It never quite healed, just remained open and raw and vulnerable, a weakness when he was trying so hard to pretend like he was over it.

But Harry didn’t mean to leave that wound on him just like he didn’t mean to let him get injured on Friday. It’s all a misunderstanding and Louis is _relieved._

He’s relieved. He’s gotten closure and now maybe he’s got a new beginning just within his grasp. He just has to go and take it.

In the end, it’s not a difficult decision at all.

After all, if there’s one thing he’s learned this weekend, it’s that every wound heals eventually. 

He goes.

-

Harry’s room is empty when he arrives but he expected it to be, eyes already darting to the shut bathroom door. 

The confidence and assurance he felt on his way here seems to vanish into thin air and suddenly he’s scared again. Still, he takes a step and then another and another, right foot and then left foot until he’s standing before the doorframe. 

Louis raises his wand, muttering _“Alohomora,”_ and watching as yellow light flashes at the tip and the door springs forward on its hinges with a drawn out creak. 

There’s no roar of water to disturb the atmosphere of anticipation as he steps forward, exhaling through his nose. He’s used to tension between the two of them but _this?_

This is entirely new terrain and he doesn’t know what he’s doing at all. Everything has flipped between them and he’s still scrambling to process it. But Harry clearly doesn’t want to wait and maybe Louis doesn’t either. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know anything. He just knows what his heart is telling him and his heart is telling him to take a chance. 

Harry is standing facing away from him, down to his white half unbuttoned shirt as he loosens his tie and takes that off too. Louis can tell that Harry knows he’s there, can see the weight of awareness on his body as he continues with his movements. 

So he’s waiting for Louis to make the first move. 

Swallowing, Louis channels his Slytherin determination and takes a deep breath. He takes a step forward. 

“Harry,” he breathes, loud but tentative. 

He doesn’t receive a reaction beyond a brief spared glance as Harry stares at the mirror in silence. Their eyes meet in the reflection and Louis sees the expectant look on Harry’s face. He needs to say it out _loud_. 

Opening his mouths, he tries to find words, but none come out. For once he’s entirely speechless, heart racing and brain tripping over itself as he stands there, helpless. 

A minute passes and Louis still hasn’t said anything. He nearly jumps when Harry raises his hands again, fingers going to the first button and undoing it and then to the next and next until Louis realises that he’s _undressing._

Well, fuck. 

Harry drops his shirt on the floor with a casual flick of his wrist, his muscled and tattooed chest finally exposed to the room and Louis’ gaze. 

He feels his cheeks grow hot, throat dry as he averts his eyes. Or, he attempts to avert his eyes, but fails miserably, drawn to Harry’s body like a magnet. 

It’s entirely automatic the way his gaze flickers lower when Harry starts unzipping his pants and then sliding them down, down, down. He tightens his grip on his wand, swallowing roughly. 

And then Harry’s standing there completely naked, softened cock hanging thick and long between muscled thighs. He doesn’t seem to mind that Louis is staring at him as he lazily takes his rings off and places them on the counter (a sight that’s much more erotic than it has any right to be), or pay any attention at all to Louis as he starts moving towards the shower door.

Louis’ cheeks are flushed deep red now, embarrassment and uncertainty blooming bigger and bigger within him with every passing second. He shifts anxiously, palms sweating when he wipes them against his thighs. 

This - _this -_ is why he isn’t a Gryffindor. He’s petrified as he stands there, frozen in place as Harry grips the handle to the shower and pulls it open. It rattles as it moves, cutting through the tense silence like a blade and grating at Louis’ ears. 

“The door is open,” Harry says - the first thing he says - voice deep with unknown emotion. It’s still achingly gentle and soft, sliding into Louis’ ears like honey. He’s not looking at Louis but his body is still tilted towards him like he wants to be. “The choice is yours.” 

Then he steps into the shower and closes the door- closes the door on Louis with one last echoing thud. 

Louis exhales, Harry’s words registering in his mind slowly before replaying over and over. It’s his choice, he said. He wants Louis to make the choice. 

But Louis is close to shaking, staring helplessly at the hazy outline of Harry’s body. Foggy with decades of soap build-up and minimal cleaning, the shower glass only shows a faded glimpse of bare skin, a hint of broad shoulders and the ripple of muscles in Harry’s back as he stands and reaches for the faucet, turning it carefully. 

The sudden roar of water is louder than he thought, drowning out the thundering of his own heart as he stands there. 

Ever since Louis joined the team in fifth year, a few facts have become set in stone. The first two haven’t changed but the third one is teetering on the edge, ready to either crack or crumble. But is Louis ready for that? 

He swallows the lump in his throat and takes a chance. 

His heart is pounding in his ears as he raises his shaking fingers to his collar. He undoes the clasp and then he’s shrugging off his robes, the thick material landing on the bathroom floor with a muted thump. 

Next is his tie, fingers fumbling so much that it takes three attempts to get it successfully off. Then he’s unzipping his pants and sliding them down, stepping out of them and shivering at the chill of exposed air on his bare skin. 

He takes a step forward, and then another, eyes glued to the vague outline of Harry’s back as he moves closer and closer until he’s gripping the shower handle, breathing hard. 

Harry doesn’t react when the rattle of the door sliding open reverbates in the air, loud and obvious. He doesn’t react when Louis steps inside, biting on his lip to suppress the shocked gasp when the first spray of warm water hits him. He doesn’t react when Louis slides the door closed. 

Louis can see the slight raise of his chest that shows he’s breathing, the hint of tension in his shoulders that suggests he’s very conscious of Louis’ presence even as he tries not to be. 

He still doesn’t react, not until Louis lifts his hand hesitantly and places it flat against the middle of his spine. Louis’ fingers twitch, the same uncertainty blossoming in his chest. He pushes it down, staring at how small his hand looks like this. 

And then Harry exhales, turning around so fast that Louis almost jumps, mouth dropping open to let out a sound but it’s immediately stolen when Harry catches his hand and presses it to his lips once - just a fleeting hello before he’s yanking Louis into him and sealing their lips together. 

This time, the sound comes out - a soft whimper as Harry cradles his face with one hand and curls the other around his hip. Louis lets himself be moved under the water and then against the wall, Harry pressing him into the tiles and moving him where he wants. 

Everything is wet and warm, damp skin sliding together as Harry leans down, the tip of his nose cold where it brushes over his cheek. “What took you so long?”

Louis is dizzy, dizzy from the proximity and the intense, hungry look in Harry’s eyes. Dizzy with the feeling of Harry’s cock fattening up against his thigh. He blinks sluggishly, fumbling for words. “I was nervous,” he admits. 

“About what?” Harry murmurs softly, nosing into his neck unabashedly. “About me? Do I make you nervous, baby?” 

“Shut up,” Louis breathes, his voice wobbling as Harry’s voice calling him _baby_ echoes in his head. The next words that spill from his lips are automatically tinted with defensiveness. “I didn’t have to show up here, you know. Probably a dozen other guys who - ” 

Harry curls a hand around Louis’ throat, stopping him short and making him slump in anticipation. A smirk dances on his lips as he crowds Louis against the wall. “Works like a charm,” he mutters, dimple popping out as if he’s amused at his own play on words. “Now what was it you were saying?” 

_Infuriating git,_ Louis thinks. Why does he feel so giddy about it? 

“Turn off the water,” he breathes, nose bumping Harry’s. Even when dazed he’s still conscious of not wasting water. 

Harry exhales, breath fanning out across his face. His hair hangs damp and dark in wet curls, water droplets on his eyelashes as he nods, not creating any distance between them when he reaches his free arm out to turn the knob. 

The water switches off and the only sound in the small square space is the sound of their breathing and the pounding of Louis’ heart when Harry places his thumb over his pulse, feeling the erratic flutter beneath the pad of his finger. 

Louis sucks in a breath, going dizzy and pliant when Harry presses down slightly. 

“Do you like that?” Harry asks hoarsely, thumbs pressing into the hollows of his throat firmly. He’s so close, wet torso pressed to Louis’ and his cock big and hard between them. 

“Like it,” Louis gasps, breath wavering due to the pressure on his neck. 

Harry curls his hand fully around his throat and squeezes. 

Louis almost blacks out, whimpering high and soft. It turns into a gasp when Harry connects their mouths, licking into his parted lips and pushing him further against the wall. His hand slides to the back of Louis’ neck, holding him carefully and preventing his head from lolling back and hitting the wall. 

Though it’s every bit as all-encompassing and overwhelming as the last times they’ve kissed, it’s also achingly slow and gentle. Harry cradles his face with his free hand, tender and soft like Louis is something precious.

He remains tender even when he slides his hands down to Louis arse, squeezing and kneading at the flesh before he’s hoisting Louis up against the tiles.

Louis wraps his legs around Harry’s torso, grateful for his healed hamstring which allows him to hang on tightly. His cock is trapped between them, so desperate for some friction that he starts rubbing off into Harry’s abdomen right away.

 _“God,”_ Harry breathes, pressing into Louis’ frenzied movements. “Wanna get off, baby?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes, whining when Harry puts him down steps away, taking his warmth and damp skin with him

He opens the shower door and reaches for the counter right outside, grabbing a bottle of lube and his wand.

Louis eyes the former and raises an unimpressed brow. “Presumptuous much?”

“Optimistic,” Harry corrects, opening the bottle and slicking his fingers up while balancing his wand in the crook of his elbow. He drops the bottle outside when he’s finished, returning back to his place looming over Louis before hauling him up again, this time with mostly one arm.

Somehow he manages to continue holding him up with a single arm, rubbing a thumb against his entrance teasingly until Louis whimpers, trying to wriggle down into it. 

His index finger inches in first, Harry letting Louis feel every little bit of the digit get enveloped into his tight, warm heat. He eases a second one in not much long after, the only sign he’s feeling even a little bit of the impatience Louis is feeling. 

Harry opens Louis up slowly and methodically, scissoring and crooking his fingers to make room for his cock which keeps bumping up and sliding between his arse cheeks like an excruciating reminder of what’s to come. 

It already feels so _full_ with Harry’s long and thick fingers pumping in and out of him but Louis knows he’ll feel even fuller soon. It’s enough to have him whining in desperation. 

He begins grinding down into Harry’s fingers when two becomes four, whining and moaning into Harry’s shoulder until Harry finally gives in, easing them all out and reaching for his wand which he left balanced precariously on the ledge next to half empty bottles of shampoo and soap. 

Muttering the enchantment for a protection spell, he drops his wand outside the shower as well, pressing Louis into the wall as he lines up and the blunt head of his cock brushes over his rim, sliding in like a natural reaction. 

_“Harry,”_ Louis pleads as Harry inches in excruciatingly slow. He presses down into it, breathing harshly already. A whimper falls from his lips when he bottoms out completely.

“Feel good?” Harry checks tenderly, adjusting his grip on Louis’ sides and making sure he won’t slip as he carefully eases out and thrusts back in. 

“Good,” Louis echoes breathlessly, tears coming to his eyes on instinct. He blinks them back, squirming at the feeling of being so full. 

Due to the potentially risky position, Harry starts off slow: the tight drags of his hips languid and fluid as he pushes up into Louis over and over. He makes it even more intense by lifting Louis up and then down his cock on every thrust, the muscles of his arms flexing and twitching with the effort. 

Whimpering at the feeling of being fucked so deeply and intentionally, Louis digs his fingers into the muscles of Harry’s shoulders and holds on tightly. The tiles behind him are still wet, providing a smooth surface for him to slide up and down with the strength of Harry’s movements. 

“Taking me so well,” Harry grunts, thrusts growing even more powerful as the heat pooling in Louis’ stomach begins to grow, spreading down his body until his toes are curling from the overwhelming pleasure he feels. 

Harry leans forward to mouth at the hollow of his throat, gaining momentum as Louis goes limp above him. His thrusts are fervent and verging on frenzied as he pushes Louis into the wall and does his best to make him fall apart while simultaneously being the only thing holding him together. 

Here in this moment, Louis feels completely unbreakable and utterly invincible - he feels _so_ _good._

The heat of an impending orgasm builds all too quickly, especially when Harry sucks a path up his neck and slots their lips together, sucking on Louis’ tongue as he rams up straight into his prostate. 

Keening high in his throat, Louis feels a tremor run through his body, choking out another whimper and digging his nails into Harry’s shoulder helplessly. 

Maintaining the angle, Harry aims for his spot again and again and suddenly Louis is on the cusp of relief, choking out a strangled chant of, _“Harry, Harry, Harry,”_ until Harry listens and gives him what he wants.

Louis comes with a hand wrapped around his throat and a thumb pressed into his mouth, never feeling more grateful for Harry’s obnoxiously big hands and long fingers than he does in those blissed out few moments. 

Harry comes right after him, hips stuttering up once twice and three times before he’s biting down on Louis’ shoulder and emptying his release inside of him, his own shoulders caving in with the force of his muffled groan.

“Good boy,” Harry praises him hoarsely and Louis mewls, dropping his head to Harry’s shoulder as he’s set down gently. “So good,” Harry repeats, kissing the top of his head sweetly. 

Dizzy and dazed, Louis uses Harry as his support as his body sags and he goes limp, knees buckling and eyes fluttering shut. Harry steadies him carefully, holding Louis tightly and keeping him upright, keeping him _safe._

Louis doesn’t protest when Harry scoops up his pliant body and carefully carries him out of the shower, setting him down again and keeping him from swaying with a solid and warm hand on his hip. 

He grabs Louis’ wand which is closer, pressing it into Louis’ hand and pressing a kiss to his temple before saying, “Dry us off, baby.”

The incantation comes out slurred but Louis still casts it, sighing contentedly when a rush of hot air sucks all the wetness from their shivering bodies. He lets Harry wrap his arms around him again, humming as he leans up onto his toes and wraps his own arms around Harry’s neck. 

They stay like that for a little bit, swaying and breathing and _being_ together. Louis notes distantly that the peace between them is something he quite wants to remain. 

“So,” he rasps, clearing his throat and tilting his head up to stare up at Harry’s blissed out face. “What… what does this mean?” 

Harry opens his eyes, lashes clumped together and irises impossibly green as he blinks down at Louis. “What does it mean to you?” he asks. 

“It means,” Louis hesitates, taking a deep breath. He looks up at Harry shyly. “I don’t want to hate you anymore. I’d like to… date you.” 

“That rhymes,” Harry drawls, that infuriating smirk making an appearance,“Cute.” 

“I take it back, I still hate you,” Louis says irritatedly. Leave it to Harry to find a way to annoy him while he’s trying to be vulnerable. 

Harry just keeps smirking, lips curling up slowly as he leans in and brushes them against the arch of his cheekbone. “Will you go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend?” 

Louis exhales at the feeling, eyes fluttering shut. A slow smile blossoms across his lips. “Well, since the giant squid has a prior engagement -” He smacks Harry in the chest when he has the nerve to snort. “- I suppose I will.”

“Perfect,” Harry grins, and then he’s leaning down and sealing their mouths together, capturing Louis’ soft exhale and sliding his arms around his waist even tighter. 

“Dinner,” Louis mumbles between kisses, feeling dazed all over again.

“But I’ve got dessert right here,” Harry mumbles back, walking them back until Louis’ lower back hits the counter. He lifts Louis onto it, sitting his bare arse on an abandoned shirt because they’re not totally unhygienic. Then he slides into the space between his legs, licking into his mouth lazily.

Louis lets him. Maybe he really won’t hex Harry today… It all depends on how well he gets fucked tonight. 

He thinks Harry is up to the challenge. 

-

Slytherin takes home the Quidditch Cup in mid-May, beating Gryffindor 430 to 260. Louis scores the most points on his team, shielded brilliantly and carefully by Harry the entire game. 

Liam sheds a tear when they all land, telling them with a heavy voice how proud he is and how they all deserved it after putting so much effort and time and dedication into practicing and training. He looks a little dazed, like the news hasn’t even fully processed for him. 

Louis on the other hand, has no problem accepting their victory and barrelling into Harry the minute their feet both touch ground. 

Harry catches him easily, hoisting him up and squeezing him tight. “We won,” he murmurs, elation in his voice. 

“We did,” Louis agrees, wrapping his legs around Harry’s middle and linking his arms around his neck, beaming down at Harry’s face with an impossibly wide grin. 

“You know what,” Harry whispers, setting him down gently and then ducking in close to murmur against Louis’ ear. “I think you and Liam should switch positions in quidditch.”

Louis fixes him with a pointed look, eyes narrowing. “If you say-”

“Because you’re a _keeper,_ ” Harry finishes, grin unfaltering even when Louis groans and kicks him in the shin. 

So maybe Harry’s still a twat, but Louis may not mind so much anymore. 

When Harry kisses him right after, Louis is sure he hears a chorus of gasps echo around them. Their previous hatred for each other hadn’t exactly been a secret. And now that the hatred has tilted on its axis, their newfound affection won’t be a secret anymore either. 

This apparently includes Harry unabashedly groping his arse in the middle of the pitch until Niall Horan, the quidditch commentator from Gryffindor, tells them to _“Get a room!”_ via microphone. 

Grinning into each other’s mouths, Harry grabs his hand and they take Niall up on the advice. 

-

Ever since Slytherin won the Quidditch Cup, a few facts have become set in stone.

One: Louis is the best chaser in Hogwarts. 

Two: Harry is the best beater in Hogwarts.

Three: Harry Styles is absolutely not boring in the slightest, and Louis is very much in love with him. 

-

**Author's Note:**

> The giant squid mentions are references to my hidden past as an avid James Potter x Lilly Evans Marauders era fanfiction reader <3 
> 
> Find me at:
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/falsegoodnight) | [tumblr](http://falsegoodnight.tumblr.com) | [fic post](https://falsegoodnight.tumblr.com/post/629168680496955393/works-like-a-charm-explicit-18k-ever-since)
> 
> Feel free to reach out or say hi! Or send me an ask on [cc](https://curiouscat.me/falsegoodnight) with your thoughts!


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